God Arcade Fire, you melt me. There’s something about Funeral that brings a flood of heart attacking memories. And it always knows when my guts are reeling with emotions
In 2005/06 my life was in a self induced upheaval. I had never ventured life outside of Southern California and the previous paths I had chosen were doing me great injustice. Of what you might ask? Well the fact that there is so much to explore, learn and live through and I was merely picking my ass while I rotted away in an area nicknamed “land of the dirt people”; I had to move, I had to get the fuck out. I remember when I heard the Funeral in its entirety; it was whilst sitting down to a beer, with a fellow redhead. That album bookmarked the already known subconscious decision in to solidification, that I was about to embark on new adventures.
My wanderlust…it was born. I now know I can up and move and land on my feet. Granted the landing is the hardest part and in my case a shaky one. With the love and support of family and friends, I preserver. My wanderlust, she still hungers…I feel I’m destined for something fantastic but how do you find that fantastic when you don’t know what the hell it is? And of course, I can’t get to that pretty pretty fantastic moment without actually doing SOMETHING… Perhaps my life is truly just walking this earth, watching my shadow grow long beneath my strides and doing it alone with only my own soul to share it with…or maybe it’s to use these great hips to pop out a bunch of puppies. But since I have disdain for children, we’ll go with option A.
Of course all of this brain over-analyzing could be a fierce side effect from my new corduroy pants being tragically too tight; creating not only a muffin-muffin-top-gurl but also cutting blood flow somehow to my thought center. Either way, I give mad props to Levi’s for the button not busting and producing attire that affectively remind me to eat better, lay off the beer and lose an inch from my mid section.
Cheers
In 2005/06 my life was in a self induced upheaval. I had never ventured life outside of Southern California and the previous paths I had chosen were doing me great injustice. Of what you might ask? Well the fact that there is so much to explore, learn and live through and I was merely picking my ass while I rotted away in an area nicknamed “land of the dirt people”; I had to move, I had to get the fuck out. I remember when I heard the Funeral in its entirety; it was whilst sitting down to a beer, with a fellow redhead. That album bookmarked the already known subconscious decision in to solidification, that I was about to embark on new adventures.
My wanderlust…it was born. I now know I can up and move and land on my feet. Granted the landing is the hardest part and in my case a shaky one. With the love and support of family and friends, I preserver. My wanderlust, she still hungers…I feel I’m destined for something fantastic but how do you find that fantastic when you don’t know what the hell it is? And of course, I can’t get to that pretty pretty fantastic moment without actually doing SOMETHING… Perhaps my life is truly just walking this earth, watching my shadow grow long beneath my strides and doing it alone with only my own soul to share it with…or maybe it’s to use these great hips to pop out a bunch of puppies. But since I have disdain for children, we’ll go with option A.
Of course all of this brain over-analyzing could be a fierce side effect from my new corduroy pants being tragically too tight; creating not only a muffin-muffin-top-gurl but also cutting blood flow somehow to my thought center. Either way, I give mad props to Levi’s for the button not busting and producing attire that affectively remind me to eat better, lay off the beer and lose an inch from my mid section.
Cheers
Look in my eyes, I am serious...these pants are tight!
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